When our great Heavenly Father first sired The Fraternal Order of The Up All Nights, he sure as Hell never considered the unholy racket these three would be capable of conjuring up after two decades of weaning themselves on the grand teat of rock & roll.

But now the Arockalypse is upon us, and lucky for you the immaculate soundtrack just arrived, an energetic whirlwind of blues chords and barely-controlled chaos that’ll have you doing keg stands of poison Kool-Aid by the second song.

Allow me to call your attention to the front of the stage, where the always dashing Sammy Dodge can be found strangling feedback from his guitar neck like it owes him drug money, while Jack and Yo-Yo rattle out a steady groove that only be evoked by those with shared DNA. Whether they’re sermonizing at your local dive joint or sprawled out on a living room floor in a fit of electrical exorcism, The Up All Nights continue to assemble a league of sweaty converts, and they’ve always got room for one more believer.

They bring a healthy dose of reckless Detroit attitude, a bit of that Stockholm spark, and a hint of early British soul, but even Sir Mick Jagger himself couldn’t muster the stones to shout-out minotaurs. Oh no! Only this pack of angelic hellions possess the power to make you count your blessings and shake your ass at the same time, and when they get worked up enough to start name-dropping Marc Bolan, you know it’s time to just sit back and let the Good Reverend Sammy Dodge testify the almighty glory of his six sweet strings.

Catch their rock & roll revival in person sometime if you’re feeling daring, and I assure you, you will see the light. You won’t know if you stumbled into God’s wedding reception or Lucifer’s bachelor party, but either way you know you’re gonna be Up All Night.